


The Calla Lily Spiral

by ElectricLoveseat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Human AU, M/M, background jonmartin, bro whatever, im here for fun not tears, im just gonna do what i want, magnus institutes just some weird building, my city now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricLoveseat/pseuds/ElectricLoveseat
Summary: Michael works at a tattoo shop called The SpiralGerry unhappily works at his mother's flower shopTogether they make it through the day





	The Calla Lily Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> this is a gift for rob. if any other hoes are here, welcome hoes

The Calla Lily Keays opens on weekdays at 7:00 a.m. sharp. Or at least that’s what the sign says, but with Mary fucking off to nowhere on most days and Gerry’s, lets say, lack of enthusiasm for the place, that time usually varies. Still, he has one reason to open up on time. That is the fact that the Magnus institute, a large and suspicious looking building across the road from the shop, opens at 7:30. Gerry knows if he doesn’t unlock the doors by the proper opening hours his front door will be flocked with weirdos from the institute. Better to let them in and out quickly rather than have them loiter around the front door.

There’s one of them at the door right now. Gerry recognizes him, sandy hair, stocky, always tapping his fingers in a nervous gesture. He comes here second most often, only outnumbered by the suave man who comes to order in bulk for his many suitors.

The man jumps when Gerry raps his knuckles on the glass door at the front of the shop, and he spins around from gazing worriedly at the Institute to the shop with a hand over his heart. Gerry unlocks and opens the door, tilting his head for the other man to come in.

“Sorry, sorry! Are you open?” He asks.

“We have a sign.” Gerry says.

“Oh! Yes! Right!” The man stumbles in awkwardly. He passes up and down the aisles, making sure to observe every flower for the right ones. Gerry’s already used to this routine. This one’s the one who spends forever trying to make the perfect bouquet himself, only to give up in the end and ask Gerry, the expert, to do it for him. After the fifth time telling him to please not touch the flowers unless you’re buying them, Gerry gives in.

“Are you… looking for something specific?”

“Um…. yes! Actually! Uhhhh….” The man nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Do you have a flower combination that means something along the lines of, uh, I dunno….. I’m sorry for, INDIRECTLY, giving you worm ptsd?”

Gerry should be used to it by now, but he still slams his head down onto the front desk.

“MUUUUM”

-

The Spiral is the hottest tattoo parlor in the city. Still, that doesn’t mean much, considering they only get around 3 customers a day. Most people are either too busy, too poor, are too stigmatized to get a tattoo in this city. With the hesitation he’s used to in the tenants of this town though, he feels the need to call in his boss when this specific customer tells him what she wants.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an impulse decision you’ll come to regret, dear?” Miss Robinson asks the young lady sitting on the chair.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?! I’m in my right mind, aren’t I?” Michael filled out her paperwork, so he knows her name is Sasha.

“Well, I don’t know you personally, but you do come from the Magnus Institute so-” Gertrude elbows Michael in the stomach, shutting him up. He gasps and steps back, holding where it will surely bruise. Of course, he thinks, Gertrude used to work there too. I need to watch what I say around her.

Sasha rolls her eyes and sits up properly in the chair, eyes determined.

“My twin sister is moving to town, and she always tries to steal my stuff! She’s a conniving little brat who follows everything I do and tries to pass herself off as me. It was funny as kids, swapping classes in school and tricking our teachers, but I outgrew it you know? And she never did. She still thinks it’s cool and funny and not at all creepy and doesn’t listen to me when I tell her it makes me uncomfortable!” Sasha looks distressed by how frantic she is with running her fingers through her bangs. “Every time she finds me she still has my looks and my style from the last time she saw me. Then in that week she’s already updated it to how I currently look! I’ve chopped and dyed my hair more times than I can count, wore all different types of clothes. Hell! I even considered plastic surgery a few times just to get some sort of individuality, but that’s too expensive for my budget.”

“Why don’t you just move out again? This town isn’t all too fun.” Michael asks. Sasha sighs, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“I’m, er, kinda tied to my job at the moment. I can’t leave. Not for too long at least. And again! I can’t afford to just drop all my stuff and move around!” She somehow slumps even further.

“Well, what makes you think she’s not just going to follow your footsteps and get a matching face tattoo?” Michael asks. He prepares himself to win the argument and to smirk at her in an I told you so kind of way, so when she grins with a glean in her eyes at him, he deflates.

“I want a tattoo that’s your own design. Something tricky to replicate, and I’ll pay you double to turn down my sister if she ever comes in here asking for the same. I want it so that even if she goes out and gets a matching one, it’ll be obviously less quality and different from mines, so there’s finally a permanent difference between us and she can stop all this nonsense!” She leans down in the chair to grab her bag on the floor and ruffle through it for her wallet. “Of course, I hope it doesn’t have to come to that. What I really want is for her to see how desperate I am to get some individuality from her and finally get it through her head that I don’t want her to keep being my copycat!”

“It’s gonna hurt really bad, are you sure?” Michael sighs and grabs his portfolio from his desk. He starts flipping through, looking for small designs he could fit on her face.

“Positive.” Sasha grins, lacing her hands together with sparks in her eyes.

As Michael hands the portfolio to Sasha, the bell on the front door jingles, followed by a bellowed “YO!” Miss Robinson sighs and cracks her fingers.

“Well, that’s Jared with my foxgloves. Michael, could you take care of it? I’ll do the tattoo.” Gertrude says. Michael raises an eyebrow.

“It’ll only take a second.” He says. Gertrude chuckles.

“With me, yes. But with you…” Michael tries to casually untuck his hair from behind his ears to cover them, knowing they’re turning red. Gertrude still sees right through it like she does with everything else.

“Wait, WHAT?” Sasha stammers, looking at Miss Robinson’s creaky old hands. “I didn’t agree to you giving me a tattoo-”

“Oh please,” Miss Robinson waves a hand to shush Sasha. “I can feel you underestimating me from here. Do you think I’d be a tattoo artist if I didn’t have a steady hand?”

“I thought like- uhm- you know- maybe shares in the company or-” Sasha stammers but shrinks and goes silent when Gertrude stares her dead in the eyes.

“Run along Michael, I’ve got this.” Gertrude says, sliding her chair to the machine to set up the needle and ink.

“Ah, right! On it!” Michael says, spinning on his heel and out the room.

-

Gerry Keay must’ve emerged from a Hot Topic store that’s in an underground sewer rat town specifically to torment Michael. That must be it. That must explain why he somehow steals Michael’s breath with every annoyed roll of his eyes and tch on his tongue. And yet, when they both meet up, he can feel a buzzing in the air that’s mutual. They both have respective jobs, both must keep a respectable distance, and yet he can tell the energy he feels from each conversation is double sided, no matter how apathetic Gerry may seem about it.

Besides, Michael’s allowed to call him Gerry.

“Here’s your uh, evil repellent bouquet. I still don’t know why Gerts says she needs at least one in the shop so badly.” Gerry says. He has this thing, Michael noticed, where when someone gets his name wrong, he calls them by a wrong name too. It would be less time consuming or rude to just correct them on his name, but Gerry is nothing if not a rude waste of time. And Michael loves it.

“I’m not sure. Burglars, maybe.”

“Tch, I don’t think Gerto’s scared of anything. If anything, she’d use the bouquet to beat any intruders. I’d recommend roses, thorns are a bitch.” 

“Do you know from experience?” Michael asks as a joke, but Gerry slumps in on himself and crosses his arms, looking away. “Nooooo, Gerry, you didn’t…..”

“Look he was an old man and I’ve had a grudge-”

“OLD MAN? You’re beating old men with flowers? Is that what you do on your break? Just go out in the street and beat the elderly?” Michael slams both hands on the desk and leans over to get closer and closer to Gerry’s face, eyes wide. Gerry lays his hand over Michael’s face and pushes him off his tippy toes and back to his spot behind the desk.

“It was after hours. Besides, you seem to be what takes over my breaks.” Gerry mumbles. Michael’s glad his hair’s too unruly to see through, because of the state his ears might be in. Gerry, on the other hand, blushes on his face. It’s funny, seeing someone so stoic turn to mush from something he said himself. Gerry clears his throat. “What’s all this weakling old people talk anyways, have you met your boss?”

“Gertrude’s an outlier. I don’t think most elderly people carry around throwing darts.”

“Hm, a very talented one could substitute their knitting needles for the job.”

“Speaking from experience again, Gerry?” Michael teases. Gerry only winks, saluting with two fingers as he walks backwards out of the shop.

“Gotta keep some air of mystery to myself. Goodbye, Michael.” Michael, in turn, salutes back. Once Gerry’s out of view though, he covers his face with his hands on his desk and groans loudly. 

“How the hell did I think that was attractive?!”

-

Another Magnus weirdo is in his shop. This one’s the one who always comes back with a new set of scars and layer of eye bags every time he sees him. He has half a mind to slip some lavender into his pockets in the hopes that the man would get a blink of sleep at least, but the other half of his mind says that's stupid, shut up Gerry, wasting inventory.

“Yes erm… funny thing you ask, weird request really-” The man stammers out, “I need a bouquet that says I’m sorry for accusing you of plotting to murder me, and stalking you, and digging through your trash. Oh! Also, I really need him to not know what the flowers mean.”

Gerry runs a hand down his face and sighs.

“God, I wish the Magnus gang weren’t so specific in their requests.” He mumbles quietly. He then regains his composure, straightening his back and clapping his hands together. “Okay! Well, how would I know if he knows what the flowers mean? I can’t just do that.”

“Well erm… I mean…”

“It’s for that cute chubby little dude right? The one you work with? He asked me to proofread his poetry, then pulled out a book the size of an encyclopedia. There’s no way a guy like that won’t look up flower meanings from the guy he’s probably crushing on, to be honest.”

The man freezes in his spot, eyes wide. He scratches at a round scar on his arm.

“...I see…..” The man mumbles, tapping his toe on the tiled floor for a moment. Suddenly, he reaches out and grabs a handful of random flowers, whatever he can get his hands on, and darts out of the shop in a panic.

“No god-” Gerry reaches a hand out but he’s already out of the door. He snaps and puts his hand back. “-damn it!”

-

“Really? I didn’t think she’d have any skin left, but okay.” Michael says at the front desk. It’s always Michael that comes out to speak to him. Maybe Gertru- Gertzo doesn’t like his company. Fine by him, he’s not much fond of her either, he supposes.

“Oh you’d be surprised.” Gerry says. He puts his index finger over his mouth, thinking. “Actually, you will, since I’m assuming you’ll be the one tattooing her this evening.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Michael groans, dropping his pen from his hands and changing his expression to something Gerry could only describe as Bleh! He slides the clipboard from under Michael’s palms and starts filling out his mother’s information himself.

“You know, actually, my mom wanted me to become a tattoo artist.”

“Oh really?” Michael looks at him with intrigue.

“Yeah. I mean, she mainly wanted me to pursue it so I could tat her up specifically.” He uses a hand to flip the part in his black hair, then gets back to filling out the paperwork. “I actually had a thing for art before she said that, but you know how that is. She just,” He coughs out a laugh with no actual humor in it. “Smothered that dream in one fell swoop!”

“Now how did she do that?”

“Oh you know how moms are-”

“No, not really. I don’t have a mom.”

“FUCK!” Gerry covers his mouth. He didn’t mean to say that, but Michael doesn’t seem too bothered. In fact, he laughs at this. It’s a laugh that should annoy Gerry, and yet… No it still does, but for some reason he feels quite fond of it. It’s not an attractive feature of Michael, but it is interesting and draws Gerry in every time he’s the cause of it.

“Still though, tell me what that means with your mom.”

“Well.” Gerry gives up writing and speaking at the same time, setting on tapping the end of the pen on the clipboard. “If she tries to make me do something, even if its something I want to do, I’m suddenly turned off from it. It’s like she tainted it with her touch, you know?”

“Oh. Hm. I guess I don’t. That… doesn’t seem too healthy, actually.”

“Oh what? Psssh, no it’s…” Gerry tries to come up with something, but Michael’s knowing gaze stops him in his tracks. “Yeah fine it’s totally not healthy but shut uppp Michael! Annoying Michael shut up!”

Michael laughs again, but this time it’s strained.

“Hey I’ve.” He starts nervously. “I’ve done most of Mary’s tattoos, and you come here because of her a lot, right? Did… am I tainted from her too?”

Gerry slams the clipboard on the desk, making a loud noise that both of them jump at.

“Oh! No no no no no!” Gerry says frantically. Michael looks visibly relieved, his fingers stop nervously tapping on the table. Gerry can’t draw his eyes away from the movement or the pause. Oh no, he thinks to himself. I’m paying too much attention to his hands. They are quite pretty… No! Since when have hands been capable of being pretty? Oh no oh god reel it back.

“If anything, that laugh of yours might do the trick.” Gerry tries to add humor to his voice, but it’s hard to do that when you’re Gerry. Michael, thankfully, takes it in stride.

“Maybe if you’re so sick of my laugh, you should stop making me use it.” He says, leaning his elbows on the desk and slyly inching closer.

“I can’t stop that. I’m a goddamn comedy genius around you.” Gerry deadpans.

“Well,” Michael rests his cheek on his hand. “Looks like you have to stop visiting then, bummer.” There’s sarcasm laced in his words. Gerry does not know how to add to this conversation, so he grips deep into his past for something, anything to add.

“Oh, has master given me a sock? Am I finally free of this establishment?” Gerry is immediately embarrassed after the words leave his mouth.

“Hm. Gonna just quote Harry Potter at me? Gonna come into my shop, my business, and be lame as hell? That’s it, my fondness for you is gone. Get out and don’t come back.” Michael deadpans. Michael never deadpans, so for a moment Gerry thinks he actually means it, but then he goes through what Michael said again.

“Fondness?” Gerry puts his hand on his chin, mirroring Michael’s position on the desk and leaning forward, smirking.

“Don’t you have some bees you need to make homeless or something?”

“Bees don’t live in flowers!” Gerry yells, standing straight and looking offended.

“Pssh, what are you, some kind of flower expert?” Michael sticks his tongue out at him. “Get out Gerry, I don’t wanna see your stupid goth little face in here again!”

“Alright, I’ll take the hint.” Gerry says, backing out and moving his hands in a calming gesture. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes with that hot cocoa you like from the coffee place down the street.” He winks.

“Ugh! Get OUT! Don’t let the door hit you on the way OUT!” Michael grabs a button pin from a container on the desk, but Gerry giggles and leaves quickly. The button instead clinks against the door and bounces to the floor. Here I am again, Michael thinks to himself. Every time he visits, I end up with my face in my hands.

"He's the worst. The woooorst!"


End file.
